Marina
by Kendra1996
Summary: This is basically Eragon, only main Eragon is Marina female so way different.
1. Chapter 1

I DO NOT OWN THE INHERITANCE CYCLE, CHRISTOPHER POALINI DOES.

Chapter 1

Marina crouched, drawing the huge longbow in her hand even tighter, stretching it taut. She froze, her eyes fixed, her body hidden in the foliage of the trees. Even her breathing was silent.

The injured little doe that she had sighted was right before her, in a clearing, having lagged behind the rest of its herd. This was the chance she had been looking for. The arrow was aimed, ready to hiss through the air and hit its target.

She had been hunting the doe for three days, and now she was deep in the Spine, a dangerous range of mountains running vertically through the land of Alagaesia. It was a wild, untamed place, and few dared enter it. Marina remained the only huntress around Carvahall who did.

But her food was almost half-gone, and she had to return home soon. If she did not catch some animal, her foster family would be forced to buy the meat from the village, and they could not afford that. And yet winter was approaching.

Marina raised her head a bit, making sure the shot would not miss. Her gleaming chestnut hair fell into her dark, intense eyes, and she shook it away. Aged almost fifteen, she was short for her age, five feet three inches. She had a slender build.

Marina drew the bow taut one last time, and released - but as the arrow took flight, it shot not into the doe, but a great explosion that had shattered the night.

The doe had bolted, fear lending it energy. Marina cursed as her best arrow was burned to a crisp in the sudden flame, but she wasted no more time than that.

Whatever ridiculous stories were told about the Spine, everything had a basis, and the Spine was filled with dangerous, mysterious magic. Marina knew that, and respected that, and as the explosion faded, she lunged toward the safety of the dark trees, an arrow drawn almost instinctively.

She watched with hooded eyes as everything became clear again. The unexpected, violent flare had blasted everything within the clearing. The grass was charred, and a burnt smell lingered.

In the center of the clearing, a stone that had not been there before lay serene and unharmed.

Marina's gaze stayed fixed upon the stone, and then scanned the perimeter, making sure nothing else other than the stone had also appeared. Satisfied that all was clear, she slung her bow over her shoulder, and crept forward. One thin, long-fingered hand reached out to take the stone.

It was large and oval and heavy in her hand. The unnaturally smooth surface was a deep, perfect amethyst, a royal amethyst. Spider-thin veins of silver snaked across it. It was both beautiful . . . and frightening.

Magic, everyone knew, had to be treated with caution. Little was known about it by the majority, and anything unknown instantly becomes dangerous. This stone, as any nitwit could see, had _clearly_ appeared by magic.

What to do? Who knows how much trouble bringing this stone into the house would bring.

But it was perhaps of some value, and since she hadn't managed to catch the doe, then maybe the stone would fetch enough money to buy meat for the winter.

Cradling the violet stone in her arms, Marina set for home. She did not need to look at the path, or check the dark sky – she knew the Spine like the back of her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, Christopher Poalini does

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, Christopher Poalini does.

Chapter 2

As usual, Marina woke early. She had camped in a another, smaller clearing after completing a third of the journey back home. Through the heavy canopy of leaves above her, morning light streamed in and awoke her.

Only lifelong habit helped Marina roll out of the warmth of the bedroll and into the icy morning air. She dressed quickly, in boy's clothing, sheathing her hunting dagger at her hip and slinging her longbow over her back. The purple stone, she held in her hands again, and set off. On the way, she ate her breakfast – cheese and bread and an apple.

Marina was different from the other hunters in many ways. Unlike them, who viewed the Spine with fear, Marina looked at it with a mixture of respect and fascination. She was not so close-minded as to miss the raw beauty of the forest and the mountains, as did most.

So the huntress loped easily through her unofficial territory, reveling in the quiet beauty. Birds chirped and sang above her as just enough sunlight streamed in to illuminate the flowers and trees and the almost invisible path.

The large, brilliant stone in her hands seemed to shine with its own light, too.

As she walked, she let her mind wander.

As long as Marina could remember, she had lived with her uncle and cousin near Carvahall. They were not her closest family, and yet she viewed her uncle as a father and her cousin as a brother.

Her mother, she knew, had been named Selena, but that was really all she knew about her. Garrow had told her that almost fifteen years ago, Selena, dressed in the clothing of the upper class, had stumbled up to her brother, pregnant and alone. She had refused to answer to any of her family's questions, not about her clothes or about the father. When Marina had been born, Selena had pleaded for Garrow to raise her and name her Marina, and then she had left, never to be seen again.

Many nights, after she had been told the story, Marina would lay awake at night, staring unseeing up at the ceiling, hoping against hope the her mother or her father would come and take her back. She would imagine that her father was a rich, handsome nobleman, of course, perhaps having served in the army during his youth. Perhaps, she had a brother or a sister, too.

But no closer relatives came to take her away.

Marina had gotten used to the insulting silence. She had trained herself to think of her uncle and cousin as her only family, to not wonder if she had any other living relatives. What did it matter that her mother had dumped her at her brother's doorstep and just left?

At least Marina had proven herself useful, and not been a burden. Her talent with a bow and with a knife were considerable, better than anyone else's in the village. And her courage in the Spine had kept the small family warm and full many times, when the game that wasn't in the Spine was scarce.

Marina reached another acceptable clearing by nightfall. The night was velvety and misty, the moon full. Marina curled up with the stone cradled against her cheek.

The next day at midmorning, Marina reached the edge of the Spine. Smiling slightly to herself for no other reason than the fine day, she broke into a run, heading for Carvahall, to the butcher's shop to trade the stone for meat.


End file.
